There's nothing quite like starting your day by driving your husband to a clinic for his endoscopy, which is where they give him some very special drugs and then stick a very tiny camera down his esophagus to see what all those years of heartburn might be doing to his stomach. I sat in the waiting room and read a lovely magazine while this occurred, then was escorted to the recovery room when the procedure was over. There, I got to have the following conversation approximately 17 times in a 30 minute period:
Jason, groggily: "Is it over already?"
Me: "Yes, it is."
Jason: "Wow! I can't believe they did it already! Did you get to watch?"
Me: "No."
Jason: "What time is it?"
Me : "8:40" (this answer varied depending on which of the 17 conversations we were having)
Jason: "Wow! That didn't take very long at all. I can't believe it's over already!" Etc, etc, etc.
Jason post-op is pretty much what you'd expect: all PLG and clueless but in a good-natured way that makes you laugh. Later, when the doctor came in to talk to us, Jason was functioning totally appropriately, asking intelligent questions, and making sense. However, it seems that the lights were on but no one was home, because Jason now has no memory of those conversations.
Now, after what was a long day spent searching in vain for some new dresses for Annie (dresses! It's all she'll wear!), I had aspirations for about 5 minutes of going to the gym (since I haven't been since last Saturday and 8 miles this weekend is going to hurt), but I was lured to my living room by a glass of red wine and my deep love of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Good grief, they are funny.
Right now, I am even missing What Not To Wear, but I needed to get on this blog and wish a not-so-fond farewell to February 2008. "See ya!" to the snow and the vomit, hello to grass and daffodils and rain boots and sanity. Tomorrow, a neighborhood pilgrimage to the Grand Opening of Jersey Junction for lots and lots of ice cream. There should be about 25 of us; it should be total chaos. I can't wait.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
The Week in Pictures
Annie drawing . . . Jemma rehydrating . . . me disinfecting the toys and every surface . . . the girls dancing . . . just trying to stay sane and occupied in our house for day #4,839. I've decided that we're going to look back on February of 2008 and say things like, "Remember that one February when Annie was three and Jemma was one and we all had the stomach flu and it snowed pretty much every single day? That was so, so long ago and I can hardly even remember it. No other winter since then has ever been as long and inappropriately unendurable!"
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Jemma at 14 Months
Since today is the 27th, I'll take a little break from reporting on the flu epidemic of 2008 to capture Jemma in all her glory at 14 months today. It's hard to remember what Annie was like at precisely this age, but in general, Jemma talks less and does more. A few recent highlights:
1. When you ask her a yes/no question, she looks right at you and nods her head vigorously up and down if her answer is yes. (If it's no, she does nothing, which isn't as impressive . . .)
2. She refuses to sleep with socks, shoes, boots, or anything else on her feet. All footwear must be ripped off after getting in her crib and then thrown on the floor. Also anything in her hair.
3. During all other times of day, she would prefer to wear both her Robeez boots and a pair of my shoes. I took actual, lengthy video today of her clomping down the wood floor in our hallway wearing my brown heels that I'll be sporting at a wedding in about a month. So, I guess we share shoes now.
4. She is a notoriously picky eater who has now begun to refuse food on sight (without tasting it at all), even food that she ate happily only one week ago. Tonight's reject food: egg noodles from homemade chicken noodle soup. Won't even touch them. A few reliable favorite foods still include milk, oatmeal, waffles, bananas, yogurt, string cheese, and crackers. (I'm sure her doctor will be impressed with the depth, variety, and nutritional strength of her diet . . .)
5. The child loves to dance and never gets tired of music. She's happiest when we're dancing to Victor Vito in the living room. When she needs to take a break from the shimmying, she does a little downward-dog yoga until she catches her breath. Seriously.
6. Her words include "mu" for milk, "da" for Dad, "mumum" for Mom, "uh-oh," "boom," - (she falls down a lot) - "ba" for ball as well as "ba ba" for what a sheep says, "woof," and "grr" when you ask her what a lion says. Even though I feel like she doesn't say much, she clearly understands everything that we say to her and will do things like walk right down the hall to the bathroom if we ask her if she want to have a bath.
7. Just in the last month, she has stopped trying to beat her books up and started to enjoy reading them. She'll bring me one out of a stack and turn around so she can sit on my lap and listen. Her favorites are The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Brown Bear, Curious George's Opposites, and Where is My Baby?
8. She's a fantastic sleeper. She still takes a brief morning nap (45 minutes or so), sleeps reliably from 1-3 in the afternoon, and goes instantly asleep the minute we put her in her crib at 7:00 p.m. sharp for at least 12 hours. I hope this goes on for a long, long time.
9. She wants to do everything that Annie is doing, all the time.
10. She's still our cuddler, and I really love having her toddle over and clutch me to nuzzle her head in my heck a few times each day or whenever she's tired. I hope that goes on for a long, long time, too.
1. When you ask her a yes/no question, she looks right at you and nods her head vigorously up and down if her answer is yes. (If it's no, she does nothing, which isn't as impressive . . .)
2. She refuses to sleep with socks, shoes, boots, or anything else on her feet. All footwear must be ripped off after getting in her crib and then thrown on the floor. Also anything in her hair.
3. During all other times of day, she would prefer to wear both her Robeez boots and a pair of my shoes. I took actual, lengthy video today of her clomping down the wood floor in our hallway wearing my brown heels that I'll be sporting at a wedding in about a month. So, I guess we share shoes now.
4. She is a notoriously picky eater who has now begun to refuse food on sight (without tasting it at all), even food that she ate happily only one week ago. Tonight's reject food: egg noodles from homemade chicken noodle soup. Won't even touch them. A few reliable favorite foods still include milk, oatmeal, waffles, bananas, yogurt, string cheese, and crackers. (I'm sure her doctor will be impressed with the depth, variety, and nutritional strength of her diet . . .)
5. The child loves to dance and never gets tired of music. She's happiest when we're dancing to Victor Vito in the living room. When she needs to take a break from the shimmying, she does a little downward-dog yoga until she catches her breath. Seriously.
6. Her words include "mu" for milk, "da" for Dad, "mumum" for Mom, "uh-oh," "boom," - (she falls down a lot) - "ba" for ball as well as "ba ba" for what a sheep says, "woof," and "grr" when you ask her what a lion says. Even though I feel like she doesn't say much, she clearly understands everything that we say to her and will do things like walk right down the hall to the bathroom if we ask her if she want to have a bath.
7. Just in the last month, she has stopped trying to beat her books up and started to enjoy reading them. She'll bring me one out of a stack and turn around so she can sit on my lap and listen. Her favorites are The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Brown Bear, Curious George's Opposites, and Where is My Baby?
8. She's a fantastic sleeper. She still takes a brief morning nap (45 minutes or so), sleeps reliably from 1-3 in the afternoon, and goes instantly asleep the minute we put her in her crib at 7:00 p.m. sharp for at least 12 hours. I hope this goes on for a long, long time.
9. She wants to do everything that Annie is doing, all the time.
10. She's still our cuddler, and I really love having her toddle over and clutch me to nuzzle her head in my heck a few times each day or whenever she's tired. I hope that goes on for a long, long time, too.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
You Knew It Was Going to Happen
In a shocking family development, Jason had to stop his car on the way home from work tonight to puke on the side of 28th Street.
Jesus himself could appear to me right now and tell me that this will all be over very soon and I'd say, "Uh-huh. I'll believe it when I see it."
Henceforth, any week that does not involve at any member of the Doublestein family either puking or going hot liquid diarrhea will be known as The Best Week Ever.
Off to pour bleach over my entire house . . .
Jesus himself could appear to me right now and tell me that this will all be over very soon and I'd say, "Uh-huh. I'll believe it when I see it."
Henceforth, any week that does not involve at any member of the Doublestein family either puking or going hot liquid diarrhea will be known as The Best Week Ever.
Off to pour bleach over my entire house . . .
Monday, February 25, 2008
Chicago, Parts I and II
Chicago, Part I:
I take the train in on a sunny Friday morning, reading magazines and drinking coffee. I check into our luxurious hotel, take myself out for lunch at a little deli, and spend the afternoon shopping aimlessly for little things (Garrett's caramel corn, new eyeshadow, baby gifts, spring clothes at H&M, books). I meet Jason in the lounge at 5:30, where we have a drink before taking the El to meet our friends at the Hopleaf, a great restaurant/bar in Andersonville specializing in Belgian beers. We run into an old friend from college and her husband and they hang out with our group for the night. We get back at midnight. Saturday morning, we work out before Jason heads off to the exhibit floor and I drink coffee while reading my book. We meet friends for lunch at Topolobambo, have margaritas and great mexican food, and then do some more shopping and wandering together, listen to music at Borders, and get hot chocolate on Michigan Avenue while we contemplate where to go for dinner.
Chicago, Part II:
Saturday around 5:30, I call my parents to check in on the girls, who have been doing great so far. My dad reports that my mom has Jemma in the tub . . . because she just threw up. Annie, he adds, has been having green diarrhea all day and doesn't want to eat much of anything. Jason and I head back to the hotel, where we both start to feel the teeniest, tiniest bit . . . ill. We end up not going out to dinner at all, falling asleep around 9:00 with stomach aches. I wake up at 1:00 a.m. and proceed to spend the next few hours heading back and forth from bed to the bathroom. In the morning, I can't even sit up for more than 10 seconds at a time. Jason is fine, and he gets me into the car, where I lie flat back for the ride to my parents' house, where my mom has just thrown up. We gather the girls and go home, where I have a fever and we are now in diarrhea mode all around.
Insert long line of swear words here.
I am forcing myself to adopt Jason's life mantra: This, too, shall pass. (It will, right? Because it sort of feels like we're going to have some version of this sickness right up until the 4th of July and maybe never leave our house again!)
I take the train in on a sunny Friday morning, reading magazines and drinking coffee. I check into our luxurious hotel, take myself out for lunch at a little deli, and spend the afternoon shopping aimlessly for little things (Garrett's caramel corn, new eyeshadow, baby gifts, spring clothes at H&M, books). I meet Jason in the lounge at 5:30, where we have a drink before taking the El to meet our friends at the Hopleaf, a great restaurant/bar in Andersonville specializing in Belgian beers. We run into an old friend from college and her husband and they hang out with our group for the night. We get back at midnight. Saturday morning, we work out before Jason heads off to the exhibit floor and I drink coffee while reading my book. We meet friends for lunch at Topolobambo, have margaritas and great mexican food, and then do some more shopping and wandering together, listen to music at Borders, and get hot chocolate on Michigan Avenue while we contemplate where to go for dinner.
Chicago, Part II:
Saturday around 5:30, I call my parents to check in on the girls, who have been doing great so far. My dad reports that my mom has Jemma in the tub . . . because she just threw up. Annie, he adds, has been having green diarrhea all day and doesn't want to eat much of anything. Jason and I head back to the hotel, where we both start to feel the teeniest, tiniest bit . . . ill. We end up not going out to dinner at all, falling asleep around 9:00 with stomach aches. I wake up at 1:00 a.m. and proceed to spend the next few hours heading back and forth from bed to the bathroom. In the morning, I can't even sit up for more than 10 seconds at a time. Jason is fine, and he gets me into the car, where I lie flat back for the ride to my parents' house, where my mom has just thrown up. We gather the girls and go home, where I have a fever and we are now in diarrhea mode all around.
Insert long line of swear words here.
I am forcing myself to adopt Jason's life mantra: This, too, shall pass. (It will, right? Because it sort of feels like we're going to have some version of this sickness right up until the 4th of July and maybe never leave our house again!)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Take a Deep Breath
Okay, I am trying to do deep breathing and keep my life in perspective (it's the stomach flu, after all, not a devastating life event) despite the fact that I haven't so much as left the house since Sunday morning. Thankfully, Annie's feeling much, much better (signs include: asking for a treat, finally (!) getting "bored" of watching Cinderella, insisting on wearing a dress this afternoon, fighting over things with Jemma, and actually leaving her post on the couch for most of this afternoon) and the rest of us are so far unscathed (knock on wood, lots of wood). With any luck, tomorrow we'll pack up and head to my parents', where we'll spend the night before I take off for Chicago on Friday morning. I had lots of ambitious plans to shop, walk everywhere, do at least one museum, and eat tons of good food. We'll see; maybe I'll still want to do all those things. But right now, what I want to do most is lie in a giant king-size bed and order room-service while watching trash TV, occasionally venturing out for a pedicure or a coffee.
I have to add, before I get bogged down in all my travel fantasies and flu angst, that Jemma has been 100% adorable the last few days in spite of being stuck in the house with her boring mom and sister. She is totally hilarious, and her personality is coming out in leaps and bounds. She's obsessed with this pink sippy cup and must carry it with her every single second of the day. I try to put just a tiny bit of water in it so she's happy, but every time I'm not looking, she intentionally dumps it out, laughs, and then toddles over to demand more. Also, she's miraculously begun clomping around with Annie's high-heel Snow White dress-up shoes on her teeny-tiny feet. It is a mystery how someone who's been walking for around a month suddenly graduates to heels, but she is determined, and quite proud when she's marching down the hallway. I love the 1-year to 2-year growth stage, and I think we're going to have a really fun spring and summer with her.
With luck, my next post will be full of Chicago-related stories and events!
I have to add, before I get bogged down in all my travel fantasies and flu angst, that Jemma has been 100% adorable the last few days in spite of being stuck in the house with her boring mom and sister. She is totally hilarious, and her personality is coming out in leaps and bounds. She's obsessed with this pink sippy cup and must carry it with her every single second of the day. I try to put just a tiny bit of water in it so she's happy, but every time I'm not looking, she intentionally dumps it out, laughs, and then toddles over to demand more. Also, she's miraculously begun clomping around with Annie's high-heel Snow White dress-up shoes on her teeny-tiny feet. It is a mystery how someone who's been walking for around a month suddenly graduates to heels, but she is determined, and quite proud when she's marching down the hallway. I love the 1-year to 2-year growth stage, and I think we're going to have a really fun spring and summer with her.
With luck, my next post will be full of Chicago-related stories and events!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Illness Update, Winter 2008
Annie has the stomach flu. Again. I sort of thought that once you had that lovely virus, you were safe for a while, but I guess I thought wrong. So we spent yesterday and today out on the couch with a bucket, watching Cinderella umpteen times and trying to keep Jemma away.
On my top ten list of fears, I would list vomiting/whole family getting the flu. And this is its third pass at the house this winter. I am not coping well. I have broken out in hives.
I am supposed to go to Chicago on Friday morning. Apparently, the stomach flu strikes our house just when we're about to leave for one of our precious few getaways per year. That way, I get to spend the week before the getaway mentally counting how many hours it's been since the first person showed signs of the virus and then calculating when the next person is likely to be knocked down by it, and then worrying constantly up to (and a little past) that point, and then calling my in-laws and/or my parents to tell them that at least one child might puke all over their house while they're taking care of them, and then pack things like gallon Ziploc baggies in my travel bag in case I puke while on some sort of mass transit.
I have - had - given up complaining for Lent. You know, trying to be more positive and just not say the negative things I'm thinking, especially if I'm in a situation where I can't change it via constructive criticism. I've been holding up pretty well (even saying ridiculously optimistic things about the weather and how spring is JUST around the corner) until now. Now, I am going to do a lot of complaining about the timing of sickness and a lot of pessimistic wondering if this is how every single winter is going to be while I have school-aged kids. Now, I am going to say to Jason, half-jokingly, several times per week, "Put me on a plane." Now, I am going to call my dear friend's husband and beg him for some Valium. Now, I am going to decide whether or not to eat things this week based on how awful they'd be coming back up.
So that's what I'll be up to for the next few days or so. Just kidding about the Valium, kind of. But I am going to need something stronger than Benadryl to make these hives disappear . . .
On my top ten list of fears, I would list vomiting/whole family getting the flu. And this is its third pass at the house this winter. I am not coping well. I have broken out in hives.
I am supposed to go to Chicago on Friday morning. Apparently, the stomach flu strikes our house just when we're about to leave for one of our precious few getaways per year. That way, I get to spend the week before the getaway mentally counting how many hours it's been since the first person showed signs of the virus and then calculating when the next person is likely to be knocked down by it, and then worrying constantly up to (and a little past) that point, and then calling my in-laws and/or my parents to tell them that at least one child might puke all over their house while they're taking care of them, and then pack things like gallon Ziploc baggies in my travel bag in case I puke while on some sort of mass transit.
I have - had - given up complaining for Lent. You know, trying to be more positive and just not say the negative things I'm thinking, especially if I'm in a situation where I can't change it via constructive criticism. I've been holding up pretty well (even saying ridiculously optimistic things about the weather and how spring is JUST around the corner) until now. Now, I am going to do a lot of complaining about the timing of sickness and a lot of pessimistic wondering if this is how every single winter is going to be while I have school-aged kids. Now, I am going to say to Jason, half-jokingly, several times per week, "Put me on a plane." Now, I am going to call my dear friend's husband and beg him for some Valium. Now, I am going to decide whether or not to eat things this week based on how awful they'd be coming back up.
So that's what I'll be up to for the next few days or so. Just kidding about the Valium, kind of. But I am going to need something stronger than Benadryl to make these hives disappear . . .
Sunday, February 17, 2008
New Curtains
I had a great day yesterday: ran with Sarah in the morning, had some girls-only lunch at Rose's, and actually took the girls outside to play in the snow and sunshine before the rain melts it all away today. But the highlight was the installation of my new roman shades in the living room. I'm so happy with the way they turned out and they're a huge improvement on the tacky plastic blinds that had been on those windows since we bought the house. Next up is the front playroom; lovely panel curtains are being made to go in there. I have a feeling that, as soon as the playroom is filled with those beautiful curtains, I'm going to to want to kick out all the toys to the upstairs romper room so I can fully realize my vision for that room - a calm, comfortable, quiet nook with a big overstuffed chair, built-in bookshelves, plentiful morning sunshine. Sadly, that vision is going to have to wait until I feel comfortable with Jemma playing upstairs (and climbing those stairs independently).
Thursday, February 14, 2008
So Romantic . . .
Valentine's Day 2008. It's just not Valentine's Day unless you:
1. Make chocolate chip pancakes at the crack of dawn. With extra whipped cream on top.
2. Watch this video with the entire family. No judgement, please.
3. Set off the smoke alarms broiling salmon after the girls go to bed. Strangely, they don't wake up.
4. Finally (!) drink an extravagant bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne you've had in the fridge since November. Cheers to February being half way over!
Note the girls looking appropriately pink and angelic for Valentine's Day . . .
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The End of a Tradition?
Every single night since Annie was a few months old, I've sung her a little song as the very last thing I do before I put her in her crib (or, now, kiss her forehead in her bed). It's "Goodnight, Sweetheart" - the one they sing in Three Men and a Baby; I'm not even sure that's the title of the song, but you know the one I mean. Sometimes Jason sings it with me and he does a little harmony. Sometimes Annie comes in and sings it to Jemma when I put her to bed. And when Annie puts her babies to sleep, she sings it to them.
Until this week.
Three or four times now, I've said, "Want me to sing the night-night song?" and Annie has politely replied, "No thank you." End of story. She's all done needing us to sing to her at bedtime. And I'm a little sad. Is she really becoming this big? What will be next? No more blanket? Can you even imagine the day when she doesn't want to be tucked it at all anymore, and just walks casually to her room after saying good-night in the living room????
Mostly, I love watching my girls grow up and I revel in the moment when they do new things. Lately, Annie has been a blast to talk to. She has questions and opinions about things like wolves, snowflakes, Valentine's Day, gum, Snow White's mommy, the book If You Give a Pig a Party, and a whole host of subjects to talk about. Jemma, too, is getting more interesting by the day. Today, for example, she spent about 75% of her time trying (often successfully) to take off her pants, take her hair bows out, and run around with her pants on her head. She's ridiculous. But I've always been glad to come back to our little rituals at night: bathtime, stories, and song before we kiss them and tuck them in. Now, that ritual will be shorter for Annie. I wonder if she'll even remember it when she grows up?
At least I get to sing it to Jemma for a couple more years . . .
Until this week.
Three or four times now, I've said, "Want me to sing the night-night song?" and Annie has politely replied, "No thank you." End of story. She's all done needing us to sing to her at bedtime. And I'm a little sad. Is she really becoming this big? What will be next? No more blanket? Can you even imagine the day when she doesn't want to be tucked it at all anymore, and just walks casually to her room after saying good-night in the living room????
Mostly, I love watching my girls grow up and I revel in the moment when they do new things. Lately, Annie has been a blast to talk to. She has questions and opinions about things like wolves, snowflakes, Valentine's Day, gum, Snow White's mommy, the book If You Give a Pig a Party, and a whole host of subjects to talk about. Jemma, too, is getting more interesting by the day. Today, for example, she spent about 75% of her time trying (often successfully) to take off her pants, take her hair bows out, and run around with her pants on her head. She's ridiculous. But I've always been glad to come back to our little rituals at night: bathtime, stories, and song before we kiss them and tuck them in. Now, that ritual will be shorter for Annie. I wonder if she'll even remember it when she grows up?
At least I get to sing it to Jemma for a couple more years . . .
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Naptime Costume Change
Here's how we found Annie post-nap yesterday, after tucking her in wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pull-up:
100% naked, tip to toe, sleeping with her doop, surrounded by each piece of clothing from her dresser drawers.
Her explanation? She was "too hot," and "looking for a dress."
100% naked, tip to toe, sleeping with her doop, surrounded by each piece of clothing from her dresser drawers.
Her explanation? She was "too hot," and "looking for a dress."
Friday, February 8, 2008
Yes, It Was 83 and Sunny . . . .
and we had to leave it yesterday to come back to 28 and snowy. Florida was refreshing, beautiful, relaxing, idyllic, lazy, and the perfect getaway from a Michigan February. I can't believe it's over already!
Things We Ate: fish tacos, crab and lobster cakes, grilled mahi-mahi, sushi (twice), a huge shared appetizer plate of Latin food - empanadas, skewers of grilled meat, potato fritters, yuca - giant breakfasts by the ocean every morning, and ice cream every day.
Things We Drank: pina coladas, margaritas, and beer by the pool; some good Belgian beer and lambic at a fancy wine store; several mojitos, including our favorite, the coconut mojito at the Latin restaurant where they loved us; coffee and orange juice every morning after our workouts.
Things We Did: ran on the beach every morning, used the hotel weight room, staked out chairs by the pool by 10:00 a.m. every day, walked along the ocean and picked up shells for Annie, read, talked, listened to the iPod in peace, walked to town two nights for dinner, watched the Superbowl at an Irish pub overlooking the ocean, hung out in the hot tub at night, napped, got tan.
Things We Didn't Do: watch Cinderella, ask anybody if they had to go potty, wake up because someone was crying in the middle of the night, wrestle with snowpants and carseats, referee fights over toys, swear under our breath, know what time it was at any given moment, cook and serve several meals a day, read the same books over and over aloud, listen to Laurie Berkner music.
Jason and I hadn't been away together, even for one night, since well before Jemma was born, so we were due. It was so good to reconnect, laugh, talk, and just be together without being interrupted by kids or daily tasks. The first couple of days, we were like, "Kids? What kids?" But then, by the last day, we were really missing the girls and wanting to have them with us. So much so, in fact, that we're pondering if it could be fun to take them with us next year when we make our February escape. Can't decide if it would be really fun, or if they're still a bit too young to really enjoy and appreciate the warmth and change in scenery. Perhaps we'll try to bring a set of grandparents along to assist . . .
In any case, we're back to reality and all the snowiness and daily drudgery that it entails. I have to say, though, that just a few days away really makes you treasure the everyday moments so much more: soaping up Jemma's little shoulders in the tub last night, getting a big, hard hug from Annie before bed, having breakfast all together this morning. I'm so grateful for the "normal" that is my regular life - and for the chance to get away from it every so often, too.
Things We Ate: fish tacos, crab and lobster cakes, grilled mahi-mahi, sushi (twice), a huge shared appetizer plate of Latin food - empanadas, skewers of grilled meat, potato fritters, yuca - giant breakfasts by the ocean every morning, and ice cream every day.
Things We Drank: pina coladas, margaritas, and beer by the pool; some good Belgian beer and lambic at a fancy wine store; several mojitos, including our favorite, the coconut mojito at the Latin restaurant where they loved us; coffee and orange juice every morning after our workouts.
Things We Did: ran on the beach every morning, used the hotel weight room, staked out chairs by the pool by 10:00 a.m. every day, walked along the ocean and picked up shells for Annie, read, talked, listened to the iPod in peace, walked to town two nights for dinner, watched the Superbowl at an Irish pub overlooking the ocean, hung out in the hot tub at night, napped, got tan.
Things We Didn't Do: watch Cinderella, ask anybody if they had to go potty, wake up because someone was crying in the middle of the night, wrestle with snowpants and carseats, referee fights over toys, swear under our breath, know what time it was at any given moment, cook and serve several meals a day, read the same books over and over aloud, listen to Laurie Berkner music.
Jason and I hadn't been away together, even for one night, since well before Jemma was born, so we were due. It was so good to reconnect, laugh, talk, and just be together without being interrupted by kids or daily tasks. The first couple of days, we were like, "Kids? What kids?" But then, by the last day, we were really missing the girls and wanting to have them with us. So much so, in fact, that we're pondering if it could be fun to take them with us next year when we make our February escape. Can't decide if it would be really fun, or if they're still a bit too young to really enjoy and appreciate the warmth and change in scenery. Perhaps we'll try to bring a set of grandparents along to assist . . .
In any case, we're back to reality and all the snowiness and daily drudgery that it entails. I have to say, though, that just a few days away really makes you treasure the everyday moments so much more: soaping up Jemma's little shoulders in the tub last night, getting a big, hard hug from Annie before bed, having breakfast all together this morning. I'm so grateful for the "normal" that is my regular life - and for the chance to get away from it every so often, too.
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